Temptation Ridge (Virgin River #6)(108)

“So he can stay with you forever?” she asked.

“Forever’s a long time, but he can stay here while he wants to,” Luke said.

“But what about when you sell the cabins?” she asked.

“Well, they’re not for sale yet,” he said with a shrug. “If I do sell them, I can find a place for Art that’s safe and secure.”

“If,” she said, her heart racing suddenly.

“I think I’ve gotten kind of comfortable here.” He laughed softly. “Surprises the hell out of me. I thought I’d be stir-crazy by now.”

“You were talking about a flying job. Have you applied anywhere?”

“I’ve talked to a couple of outfits that have openings—a news chopper in Dallas. A rescue outfit in Georgia. Nothing has my name stamped on it yet. I’ve only been out of the army six months. There’s plenty of time. Right now the important thing is that Art feels okay.”

Shelby didn’t say anything right away. She waited for him to say something about them—their future. About it being important that she felt okay. About having plans that included them both. But nothing came. Because nothing had changed.

“While I’m here,” Luke said, “I should be able to keep an eye on Art, it’s not like he’s high maintenance.”

“Well,” Shelby said. “That’s great news. I’m sure you’ll be very happy together.”

Loving Luke was like a drug for Shelby. She wasn’t sure exactly how long to stay in this relationship or how to let it go, but one thing she did know for sure, he wasn’t offering her anything more than what they had together, and what they had wasn’t binding in any way. It was more than just sex, but intimacy with him held her captive. There was also affection. In terms of companionship, friendship, she felt secure; it was clear he cared about her. The problem was that without words of love, without commitment, the day could come without warning that he would say, “I don’t feel enough to keep this going any longer.” And that day would kill her.

It was that moment Muriel had warned her about. The moment of clarity that signaled it was time to think about moving on.

The weather had been fairly mild until late January and then a blast from the north covered the mountains and brought in February with rain, snow, sleet and ice. The days were short and, given the overcast, dark. The snow didn’t stick for long but the ice was unpredictable and treacherous. The California Department of Forestry was clearing the mountain roads of debris and spreading sand along the steep and curving roads. There were more than the usual number of one-car accidents caused by poor visibility or slippery roads. Everyone in Virgin River was bundled up.

Shelby headed for town one afternoon to spend some time talking with Mel; Mel was always compassionate but straight to the point with her advice. Uncle Walt warned Shelby to watch those patches of black ice. All the way into town, she was rehearsing what she would say, how she would explain that nothing had gone wrong with Luke, but it also hadn’t gone quite right. That Luke was ready to take care of Art and make sure he had all he needed, but hadn’t even said he would miss Shelby—that said it all. She needed to be told she was loved. She didn’t think that was greedy.

She slowed as she saw something up ahead that looked like a pile of trash by the side of the road. Also, some dirt on the shoulder was visible through the snow. Then from that pile at the edge of the road, there was movement. As she drew near, a child stood up while another person remained down. She hit the brakes and skidded, so she eased up through a possible spin until she stopped safely.

She jumped out of the Jeep and what she saw stunned and confused her. A little girl, maybe six years old, stood beside a teenage boy who sat on the ground, gripping his shoulder with one hand and grimacing in pain. He had a gash on his head and his arm hung at an unnatural angle. The little girl was sobbing, tears running down her cheeks. Her eyes were wide and frightened.

Shelby knelt beside them. She ran her hands over the little girl’s head, shoulders and arms. “What happened here?” she asked them.

“The bus,” the boy said, turning his head to point down the hill. Halfway down, a hundred feet at least, that big yellow bus was balanced very tentatively, the back end up against a huge tree, the front end pointing downward. If one thing shifted, that bus could head down the hill like a torpedo, hitting every tree and bump in its path before crashing at the bottom, a long way down.

“Holy God,” Shelby muttered. She bent to the boy, who grimaced in pain again. “Are there kids on the bus?” she asked.

“It’s full o’ kids,” he groaned. “When it slid off the road, we started to get out the back emergency door.” Tears ran down his cheeks from the pain. “I only got Mindy out before the thing shifted and slid farther.” He groaned. “I took a dive.”

“And crawled up the hill?” she asked.

He nodded. “If they try to get out, it could go. My arm. It’s outta the socket. You gotta pull it hard. Get it back in.”

“Hang on, buddy,” she said. “Just hang on.” She walked over to the edge of the hill, framed her mouth with her hands and yelled as loud as she could. “Don’t move! I’m getting help!” She helped the boy to his feet, then took the little girl’s hand. She opened the back door of the Jeep for them.